


What Defines Us

by doctor_jasley



Category: Bandom, Cobra Starship, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic At The Disco
Genre: Alternate Realities, Bullying, Implied Drug Use, M/M, Multi, Stealing, Supernatural Elements, Violence, alluded to soulbonding, and vague homophobic behavior., creepy imagery(including creepy children), implausible action sequences, secondary oc character deaths, underaged drinking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-27
Updated: 2012-08-27
Packaged: 2017-11-13 00:03:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/497154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doctor_jasley/pseuds/doctor_jasley
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabe’s a normal teenager until, suddenly, he isn’t anymore. He was under the impression that senior year would be hell. He wasn’t expecting this.</p>
<p>Apparently, alternate realities do in fact exist. And Gabe has the potential to open and close doors between those realities at will. It makes him an asset for the dimensions without a portal creator. Lucky him.  </p>
<p>It’s a free-for-all that Gabe has to survive while trying to also navigate the new romance with his high school crush and the guy who kept them from being captured by alternate reality elementals. Who thought being eighteen would be this intense?</p>
            </blockquote>





	What Defines Us

**Author's Note:**

> written for wave three of BBB 2012
> 
> bootson is the BEST beta/cheerleader EVAR. Extended A/N can be found [HERE](http://doctor-jasley.dreamwidth.org/79797.html). creepylicious & theletterelle are SUPER SHINY.
> 
> Art is embedded in the story. 
> 
> Art- [ART](http://doctor-jasley.dreamwidth.org/79476.html) \- by creepylicious
> 
> Mix- [Animal Spirits](http://doctor-jasley.dreamwidth.org/79216.html) \- by theletterelle

What Defines Us

Short skirts ride up pale thighs. Gabe smirks around the rim of his red, plastic cup while he scans the crowd for familiar faces. He loves house parties, especially at the beginning of the school term when summer’s still trying to cling to its sweltering birthright.

That doesn’t mean Gabe has any damn clue whose backyard he’s currently in. Could be the parents of someone he goes to school with or some bro-pad for a handful of college roomies. Fuck if he actually gives a damn. There’s free booze, possibly something harder if he’s inclined to hunt for the shit, and plenty of pretty people to leer at suggestively.

Life is good.

Even if his friends have abandoned him for wherever they’ve vanished off to. Victoria’s probably stalking the Bimbo Barbie population so she can document their plasticity for dubious purposes. When she rules all of North America with an iron fist, Gabe’s going to stand in the shadows and laugh his ass off as those plastic faces begin to melt from the onslaught they never _ever_ saw coming.

Okay, thought about like that, it’s a bit intense and maniacal.

Whatever, it’s the truth. Gabe doesn’t personally mind the popular people or the jocks like Victoria does. No one messes with him. He’s the something, something, grand, majestic, and badass, animal of the Serengeti. 

He can’t be a giraffe because they’re too gawky, though they _are_ bright fucking yellow.

That would be a plus.

He’s not a lion because those assholes are douchebags, and their fur is boring. Being a zebra would be cool, except for that whole prey thing. Gabe’s not some trophy hunt for a cheetah to take down.

Just, no thank you.

Watching that Discovery Channel documentary in Biology class sophomore year turned him off of meat for good. He’s perfectly fine as a herbivore with no natural predators.

Hyenas are out. The fuckers laugh too damn much to be trusted. On second thought, maybe he has a drop of Hyena in him, considering how often he chuckles at stupid fucking shit.

Nah.

He can’t be _THAT_ much of a dick, no matter what Alex says to the contrary. Gabe doesn’t openly cackle when the nerds and invisibles slip in the hallways at school. Not like the pricks on the golf team who circle like scavengers waiting for their meal to give up the ghost and die.

Who wants to be on the golf team, anyway? Fucking pussies who think they’re true jocks. If Gabe were an elephant he’d stomp them into pulp just for being self-important jackasses, but his memory isn’t that solid. Fuck, he has issues remembering if he’s finished his homework right before it’s due.

So yeah, not an elephant.

Maybe a rhino? They have that kickass horn, after all. On the down side, they’re almost extinct because of that damn horn. Gabe can appreciate a good illegal sex enhancer but not at the cost of innocent animal lives. He _does_ have a few morals.

Shakira pumps through the jerry-rigged sound system. A chick in a ridiculously hella-bad tank top tries to belly dance. She’s failing terribly. Her friends are laughing and goading her on.

Gabe tips his cup to get to the dregs of the jungle juice swill someone mixed earlier. He could be a snake. Those are always badass.

That one palm reader at the travelling fair last year _did_ say his spirit animal was a cobra. Gabe could dig that.

“If you keep doing the fang sign subtly to yourself while thinking about snakes, I’m leaving your ass here later. I don’t care if it is your car. We’re not going spirit questing ever again. There’s only so much obsessive behavior I can take from you.”

Nate drops into the empty chair to Gabe’s left. He’s glaring at the people around them who have shiny plastic cups. It sucks being the DD, but that’s why they draw straws before hunting for a party to crash.

Gabe hates when it’s his turn, but he makes sure to always have his cell phone charged and with him for those nights. Blackmail material is _almost_ always worth the agony of missing a drunken adventure.

“You’re just sad your animal guide was a jack rabbit and that snakes eat rabbits. I wouldn’t do that. It would matte your fur into an ugly pattern of acid-eaten tufts.”

Gabe tosses his empty plastic cup several feet in front of them. It rolls until it gets crushed under the sole of a tattered shoe. Brendon waves at Gabe before letting his friends drag him away.

Gabe’s known Brendon for years, since Gabe’s family moved into the unkempt house right across the street from where Brendon lived. They’re not exactly friends. Gabe doesn’t know what the fuck they are or even how Brendon snuck in tonight. On a scale of visible to non-existent, Brendon rates a very high six, maybe even a seven when he’s not being hassled by the asshole bullies who don’t give a shit about Gabe’s whispered threats. 

“Knowing that the ancient Egyptian asp was actually a cobra, instead of a viper, is not obsessive behavior.”

Nate rolls his eyes, shaking his head as he mutters something derogatory under his breath before actually saying something Gabe can hear.

“You know that derail-the-conversation-in-a-different-direction shit doesn’t actually work, right? You’re fucking obvious. Clark Kent has nothing on you, man. Vicky-T’s going to claw your eyes out eventually if you don’t make a fucking move already.”

The lawn chair Gabe rescued from the side of the pool earlier squeaks when he stands. He’s not wasted enough for this. He dates, he fucks around with people, and for some stupid reason, when they break shit off, he’s left staring at Brendon again.

Gabe’s eighteen; what the fuck is wrong with him?

“If by _make a move_ you mean _get another drink_ , then I’m way ahead of you, fluffy.”

Nate glares at him.

+

The ground shakes and splits open.

“Whoa, mayday, mayday! Ship capsizing.”

Gabe groans and squints up at the person who is being a douchebag by not standing in front of the blinding, morning light. The sun is a murderous bastard. Gabe hates it with a burning, fiery passion.

His head feels as heavy as the steadying hand on his bare shoulder. It’s easy to shrug off the welcome warmth the hand paints against his skin.

“I rescued your shirt out from under the gas grill. The propane tank was unhappy with me stealing its brand new best friend, and you’re lucky as crap your phone didn’t vibrate right into the pool. How the heck did you lose it so far away from where you crashed?

Also, your dad was unhappy when he called, but he thinks we were at a friend’s house working on school stuff last night. Today, we’re supposed to be volunteering. So wake up, or Travie is going to send you home for being hung over.”

Brendon waves Gabe’s shirt in front of his face before handing him his phone.

Apparently, Nate wasn’t kidding about leaving Gabe’s ass. Which means he’ll have to bus to Nate’s weekend bagging gig at the grocery store on Morris Avenue if he wants to get his car back.

Fucking great.

“You’re too fucking chipper for this hour...whatever early-ass hour it is.”

Brendon stuffs his hands in the front pockets of his jeans.

“It’s ten. Not early at _all_. Come on, you’re lucky I passed out on Pete’s bed instead of crashing somewhere else last night. I think I can score us a ride. Your friends abandoned you in hostile territory.”

Plastic cups litter the grass when Gabe takes the time to check out his surroundings. Two college dudes holding black trash bags glare at him as he stands and tugs on his shirt. Fuck them; if they didn’t want high schoolers passing out on their lawn, they should have had a prissy, little guest list and carded minors.

“Fuck them. They can stare and admire us from afar. Nate threatened to leave my ass. Fucker likes to prove he’s a rabbit of his word.”

Brendon quirks his eyebrows in confusion but laughs like a dork, regardless.

“You haven’t changed. Come on, before they tackle you and flay your skin right off your bones with their super secret laser eyes.”

Gabe tries to keep from snorting because his head is not being very generous to him. He fails when Brendon uses his fingers to mimic laser beams shooting from his eyes.

“I see you’re still the prince of the dorks, Bren. Was afraid the fucking Conformity Brigade had brainwashed you. You’ve been quiet in class lately.”

Brendon shrugs.

“We’ve only been back to school for two weeks. Culture shock, man. You can’t hold that against me. I’ll be back to the bad jokes in a few days.”

Gabe chuckles to himself. It’s almost as if he’s been transported to freshman year all over again; the first time around, before he was held back for failing his final exams. Brendon’s hotter now than when he was in eighth grade. That is definitely a plus.

Even if Gabe’s not going to do anything with that thought.

+

Pete’s car door slams behind Gabe when he gets out of the back seat. Brendon bounds from the passenger seat with more energy than humanly possible. Gabe closes his eyes and counts to ten. He thinks he might hate Pete a little. Only a little, especially if by _a little_ he actually means _a hell of a lot_.

Gabe’s not jealous of a college student. He’s _not_. Okay, fine. He _is_ jealous now that he’s pretty fucking sure Pete’s screwing around with Brendon.

Gabe doesn’t have the right to be angry. Pete barely knows him, working a few shifts a week together at a coffee shop does not make them long-lost besties who tell eachother everything.

“Call me when you’re done, and I’ll pick the both of you up.”

Brendon salutes Pete and ends with a flaily little, happy wave. “Will do, but I think we can catch a bus from here. Thanks for the ride.”

Pete leans across the passenger seat to grab at the door Brendon forgot to close. Gabe shuts it before Pete can reach the handle. He gives Gabe this unreadable look and gets a shrug in return.

After Pete breaks two traffic laws to peel away from the curb, Gabe rolls his shoulders.

“You two make a cute couple. A dorky-as-fuck, cute couple but still cute.”

Brendon pauses at Gabe’s side.

“Whoa, okay. Buzzzzzzzz. Wrong answer. We’re friends. Just because I said I crashed on his bed doesn’t mean he was there.”

Gabe releases the breath he didn’t know he was holding. Great, he’s a dick. Maybe Alex was right. That _still_ doesn’t make him a Hyena. 

“I’m not going to give you shit if you’re together. I’m not going to scream jailbait at cops or anything. You know me better than that.”

Brendon narrows his eyes at Gabe.

“Just so you know, you’re being an asshole right now. And besides random in-class projects, we haven’t spoken more than a handful of words to each other since I turned sixteen. Pete lets me stay at his place when I need to.”

Gabe watches a few cars blur by. He’s not going to flinch at Brendon calling him an asshole. He’s actually more surprised to hear Brendon curse than anything else. Sunday church is a _big_ thing with the Uries. There’s something here that doesn’t fit right into everything he knows about Brendon.

“I was trying to be supportive. Do you stay over often? I haven’t seen you leave your house in weeks.”

Gabe was worried once he realized how many days had passed since the last time Brendon waved at him from across the street, but fucking hell is he _not_ going to mention that. It would imply that he cares about Brendon in more than a friendly way. Gabe hasn’t jumped off the denial train yet.

“Why aren’t you and Pete dating? I didn’t know you guys worked together. You’d be perfect for eachother.”

Brendon frowns at Gabe as they get closer to the aging community center where they both volunteer.

“How does that sound for supporting?”

Gabe sighs. Okay, he deserved that.

“Assumptions turn me into a jackass. This isn’t breaking news.”

Brendon snickers under his breath.

“A truer point has yet to be made this morning. We should do this more often. I’ve missed this.”

Brakes screech and a car horn blares behind them. It’s distracting and painful to hear while hungover. Gabe would bet a million bucks that someone disobeyed traffic laws and almost caused a wreck. The obscenities being yelled from a rolled-down passenger window are easy validation.

Gabe mentally congratulates himself on successfully calling the scene without having to turn around to watch the event unfold. Brendon kicks at an empty beer can when he realizes Gabe’s not professing his overwhelming emotional loss over whatever _not_ -friendship they used to have.

There’s nothing to say; well, there’s nothing Gabe’s willing to _say_.

+

“You’re not an oblivious, little shit who’s balls haven’t dropped yet. Stop punking out.”

Gabe’s sweeping the corner of the study hall while watching Brendon tutor a fifth grader at one of the work tables when Travis sneaks up on him. Travis enjoys being a super stealth ninja around Gabe whenever possible. Maybe Travis’ spirit animal is also a snake.

Possibly a viper or an elapid like the taipan.

“Travie, I thought you had shit to do. As a team leader, shouldn't you be advising at-risk teens to turn off the path of evil in favor of shaping-up to be good, little, military pawns?”

Travis never calls Gabe on cursing as long as he’s not in front of the teenies who escape here as a sanctuary from the violence and substance abuse. He hasn’t had to repeat himself since Gabe was first shoved into volunteering last year as punishment for attempting to assault some asshole for being a dick.

Those first few months were hell. Travis seemed to relish teaching Gabe how to respect fighting after his volunteer hours were up for the day. Apparently, knowing how to kick someone’s ass doesn’t mean you should.

“I always have shit to do, which includes glaring daggers at recruiters when they step out of line. Doesn’t mean I’m turning down the chance to watch a live soap opera unfold before my eyes. You kids are fucking entertaining.”

Gabe sweeps the bristles of the broom against the floor. Hard.

“You’re fucking twenty-three, asshole. I’m pretty sure that doesn’t make you ancient.”

Travis shrugs.

“You think you could sweep more of the floor, not hide in the corner staring like a creepy, sparkly vampire stalker?”

Gabe flips Travis off as he walks away. He’s not Edward Cullen. Fuck that. Brendon’s hell of a lot smarter than Bella fucking Swan.

Motherfucker, where did Gabe pick up this drivelly shit from? Victoria hasn’t even read that fucking series, though she’s ranted about it. That has to be where Gabe’s knowledge of character names has come from.

Doesn’t answer the Million Dollar Question on how Travis knows. Gabe shrugs and goes back to sweeping.

+

The Super Bee grocery store is bustling when Gabe strides past the automatic doors. Brendon had to cover his own shift at the Book Shack so Gabe’s alone again. He’s not going to mourn the loss of contact.

Much.

Late Saturday afternoons during the beginning of football season are hit or miss with shoppers. It always depends on who’s playing whom and what times the games start. If it’s halftime, people scramble to their cars for errands. Beer, snacks, and grilling goods always fly off the shelves first.

Nate’s bagging eggs for an elderly lady when Gabe pokes him in the side.

“Little Rabbit, Little Rabbit, hand the Big Bad Snake his keys.”

Nate doesn’t even jump, he just shuffles to the right while he continues to bag shit.

“I’m busy. Go eat toads. My break’s in fifteen minutes.”

The lady glares at Gabe. She looks seconds from steamrolling him with her cart. There must be something in the water that makes the Blue Hairs in the area meaner than a nest of shaken hornets. Or maybe old people hate him.

That’s a valid possibility.

Fifteen minutes pass easily. Gabe spends the time texting Alex and Victoria. The lobsters in the seafood tank stare at him with their beady eyes. They probably can’t see him, but that doesn’t make him feel any less guilty over their eventual fate.

He should free them. They’re not blue, orange, or camo colored. Those are the only lobsters who get free passes. Gabe knows because the internet told him. The only articles that ever mention lobsters are those of giant-ass, snap-your-face-off monsters or the freaks of nature who are rare and _special_.

“If you break the glass and steal Mister Red and Master Boily, Mr. Proe will have the cops escort you to a comfy jail cell.”

Which is code for _don’t even fucking think about it, asshole; I’m not calling your parents to bail you out of jail for being an activist, so suck it up_. Nate fishes around in the pocket of his ridiculous work smock before pulling out Gabe’s key chain. The spinning snake charm twirls as Nate tosses the keys over.

“She’s with the other employee vehicles. Not a scratch on her. Please tell me you got a date out of all of this? I don’t want to have to bury your body after Vicky-T murders you.”

Gabe pockets his keys. _Oh hi_ , house key poking him in the thigh. How the hell was he expected to get in his fucking house without that?

“Why is my love life suddenly everyone’s concern? None of you need to live vicariously through my exploits, though I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to.”

Nate punches him in the arm.

“Feeling up Tracy Wallace behind the gym before class does not count as an exploit.”

Gabe watches a woman in shiny pumps stalk up to the seafood counter and slam the buzzer for attention, several times. The noise is irritating. He wants to go up to her, tap her on the shoulder, and whisper about elevated mercury content in the watery critters the Super Bee sells.

He doesn’t because Nate would kill him. 

“My singledom is a status symbol. Everyone would mourn if it changed for more than a week.”

Nate snorts.

“Yeah, all the boys and girls would cry into their pillows in overwhelming sorrow, instead of, I don’t know, sighing in relief over not watching your neverending heart eyes for someone a year and a half younger than you who trips over his own feet in the hall.”

Gabe wraps his left hand around his keys and lets the warm metal poke into his palm. He’s not that obvious. The whole school has no fucking way of knowing.

“We both know the Hyenas on the golf team like to stick shit in his way.”

Nate doesn’t even turn to look at Gabe when he speaks. Apparently, they’re both watching pump lady buy one of the lobsters in the tank. There’s no way in hell she’s going to release the poor guy somewhere safe.

“Hyenas? Nevermind, forget I asked. I don’t want to know what floats around in your head.”

Gabe smiles, bright and wide. He knows it makes him look creepy. That’s part of the point.

Nate shakes his head. “I gotta get back to the slave trade. You have work tomorrow, right?”

When Gabe nods, Nate salutes him and says he’ll see him on Monday.

The lady with the lobster walks by seconds later. Gabe swears that her shadow is longer that it should be, but he can’t prove it. More than likely he’s just crashing hard from the night before.

It’s happened before. Hell, this isn’t the first time he’s seen shadows elongate in the last few months. Travis told him to sleep more, and Pete laughed while pouring coffee and assumed Gabe was smoking up.

They’re the only two who know. There isn’t any reason why they’re special, not really. Gabe just felt like telling them. Spur of the moment decision. Whatever.

He’s not really bothered by it. He’s not crazy or anything.

+

Gabe’s on his way to the cafeteria for a last minute breakfast biscuit when he walks by the band room and hears a voice.

“Poor lost, little nerdling. No one loves you. Not even your parents. I bet it’s because you like dick. That’s it, isn’t it?”

The words tingle and bite, causing his skin to prickle. It’s a very uncomfortable feeling. Gabe doesn’t think about it when he pushes the door open more than it was.

One of the nameless golf players turns to look at him before going back to his prey.

Brendon’s backed up against the dry erase board. Gabe doesn’t have a damn clue why the band room would need a dry erase board. He has to tell himself to focus instead of fixating on random shit.

“Lets say it is. I don’t see how it matters to you, Randy.”

Brendon’s voice is shaky but strong. Gabe’s mildly impressed. Not that he expected Brendon to roll over and show weakness because if there’s one thing he’s learned since high school became his life, it’s that the bullies and creeps always fail to drag Brendon down with them.

It never really matters if Gabe threatens people. Brendon survives, somehow finding a way to come out unscathed and on top, nine times out of ten. Even if he’s bruised or cut, he still walks away without losing the things most others would when confronted with the same situations.

That’s more than Gabe can say about himself some days. There are moments where he stares at his ceiling at home wondering why he was adopted. Why he wasn’t good enough.

He loves his parents but the knowledge that he’s not theirs is a thorn that works its way under his skin. They’ve always been honest with him. They love him as their own.

Most days, it’s enough.

Other days, he wonders, mind whirling at a breakneck speed until he has to slip out of the house and wind his way into mischief. It doesn’t help that his birth mother sends him wearable trinkets for his birthday, yet never writes a letter or asks to be part of his life.

Randy glances from Brendon to Gabe. His lips curl upwards. The grin eating his face is malicious, sharp and as wicked as that of the hyena Gabe swears the guy has to be.

“Oh, I see. This is even better.”

Gabe clenches his fingers against his palm. “I don’t think you can see at all. I hear moles like it underground where the worms wriggle helplessly.”

Randy glares at him but steps away from Brendon. He bumps into Gabe when he goes for the door.

“Doesn’t matter what your status is Snake King, we’ve seen you now.”

The sharp staccato laughter that follows Randy’s retreating footsteps pricks like tiny needles against the exposed skin of Gabe’s arms and neck.

Brendon shivers. 

“That was weirder than usual. And shit has been warping more and more lately.”

Gabe unclenches his fists. Randy’s words are burrowing in his head. _‘Snake King_?

“When did they kick you out?”

Focusing on Brendon’s family situation, Gabe shoves Randy’s voice out of his thoughts. The golf team is fucking high as kites, apparently. There’s no way in hell he’s going to listen to them.

Brendon shrugs.

“Religion and I, we’re not on good terms anymore. You can guess that went over _well_ with my parents. I’ve been couch hopping since early June.”

Gabe nods, though he also feels sick. Brendon’s a good guy; he doesn’t deserve this.

“Why didn’t you come across the street? We would have helped out.”

Brendon’s answering smile is sad, the corners of his mouth unsure if they want to frown or try for something more hopeful. 

“After last year, I thought we were avoiding each other. Plus, you know my parents, they would have blamed you.”

The band door opens and a pair of twins walk in chattering to each other about Cosmo or some shit Gabe doesn’t exactly care about.

Their entrance breaks the moment, and Gabe rolls his shoulders before heading out.

+

Monday night, his parents make pasta. They’re laughing in the kitchen together when he gets home from his short after-school shift.

“Did you have a good day, dear?”

Gabe shrugs and makes his way to his room. He’s not exactly sullen or anything remotely related to teenaged angst. He’s just tired, and his brain won’t shut off.

He texts Nate, Victoria, and Alex to see if they’re free to scout for a college party. His computer boots slowly; maybe he should run a virus scan. It’s been a week, and he’s downloaded some choice porn, so it’s possible it’s worm-ridden, just like the ground.

Where the moles live.

Fuck.

He’s not crazy, but this morning is sticking with him like a fly to glue covered ribbons of falling paper.

Nirvana’s “Nevermind” kicks on when his iTunes pops up.

His phone buzzes its way off of his bed, and he has to bend to retrieve it. Nate has family movie night. Gabe’s in the process of replying when Victoria texts back to say she has plans. She doesn’t elaborate, which means either she has a hot date or she’s contemplating world domination, again. 

Alex doesn’t text him. Gabe wasn’t expecting him to. Monday is usually a radio-silent night for them.

Supper is normal. His parents flirt with each other and ask him about his day. He shrugs through most of the questions.

“Brendon’s parents kicked him out.”

Gabe doesn’t know why he mentions it.

His dad folds his napkin and places it next to his empty plate. “Brendon Urie? From across the street?”

Gabe stares at his empty glass of water. “Who does that? I mean, I guess I get it, my birth mother doesn’t want anything to do with me, besides randomly sending me hemp bracelets for my birthday. Some people are just shitty human beings.”

“Gabe....” His mom frowns at him. She hates when he says shit like that.

Gabe can’t help it. How else is he supposed to feel? He stands and collects his dirty dishes, taking them to the sink before sidestepping his mom when she follows him.

“Gabe, dear..”

“I have homework to do. Love you.”

He makes a break for his room.

+

Gabe’s phone thunks against the floor waking him up.

**U awake?**

It flashes across the screen when he unlocks his phone. Gabe doesn’t recognize the number. Instead of ignoring the goddamned pixelated text, he fumbles for the options function and hits call.

“Who is this?”

His voice is muffled and deep from sleep. Fuck, it’s two a.m. Not even Alex calls him at this hour.

Brendon’s voice is thin, almost a whisper, across the line.

“Sorry, I’m borrowing a _friend’s_ phone. You didn’t change your number.”

Gabe can imagine Brendon’s small, optimistic smile. Fuck it, he’s awake now.

“What’s wrong, B?”

There has to be something, or Brendon wouldn’t be calling at two fucking a.m. in the goddamn morning.

“I _kinda_ need a ride. You can say no. It’s stupid for me to call for a favor. It’s ridiculously early, I’m just going to hang up now. Sorry-”

“Brendon, the babble-fu is hard to follow. Where are you?”

Brendon sighs.

“You remember the park with the broken swings?”

Gabe nods before saying “yeah.”

Before high school, they’d sneak out of their houses after-hours and spend part of the early morning being idiots out there. Last year, they revisited but things were different. Gabe made a mistake he shouldn’t have. 

“Give me thirty minutes. I’ll be there.”

Gabe hangs up without waiting for a reply. He slips out of bed and grabs his clothes from the day before, checking that he has his wallet and keys.

The house is quiet when he scouts the hallway for activity. He detours to the bathroom to piss quickly and creeps to the front door. The street lights flicker when he re-locks the door behind him.

Across the street, the Urie residence looks empty, no cars in the driveway, the porch light flickering just like the street lights. Gabe glares at the house as he walks to his car.

+

Brendon’s sitting on top of the monkey bars when Gabe shows up at the park. He drops to the ground effortlessly as Gabe walks up. It’s always surprising how graceful he can be at odd moments. The guy who trips in the hallways at school can also do backflips and jump from shit with a flawless execution.

The moonlight highlights the bruise skating across his jaw line. Gabe wants to hit someone.

“I didn’t know who else to call. Pete wasn’t answering his phone. I don’t know Travie’s personal line and felt stupid calling the hotline number.”

Gabe can understand that. The outreach hotline is for emergencies.

“What happened?”

Brendon shrugs and leans against the side of the monkey bars. Dark paint flakes and clings to the fabric of his faded shirt.

“Thought I had a place for the night. I misjudged the conditions. Got into a fight and hightailed it out. Ditched the phone I snatched. My backpack’s hiding in the bushes. Just in case. I didn’t know if you’d come.”

Gabe goes to punch the highest ladder rung he can reach. Brendon curls warm fingers around his wrist. Aborting the action.

“You’ll break your fingers that way.”

“Fuck, Brendon, have you ever asked me for anything that I haven’t agreed to, eventually? I wouldn’t leave you stranded with nowhere to go.”

Brendon slides down the side of the support beam. His shirt rucks up to show pale skin. Gabe does his best not to stare in the moonlight.

“What about last year?”

Gabe drops to his knees next to Brendon.

“That wasn’t your fault. I did something I shouldn’t have.”

Brendon huffs out a heavy sigh.

“What if I don’t think that? That it was a mistake? What if I liked it when you kissed me?”

Gabe scrubs a hand through his hair and stares at the moon.

“Then I’ve been a fucking idiot.”

Brendon laughs; the sound is happy. Gabe finds himself smiling.

“Could we start over?” Brendon wraps his fingers around Gabe’s wrist again.

The touch is grounding. Different in a way from everything else Gabe’s felt. “Tomorrow? I think I can sneak you in the house and not have my parents harp like banshees foretelling death. If we’re boyfriends, they might banish you from my room.”

Brendon snickers under his breath. “We can’t let that happen.You’ve been mainlining Wiki again, haven’t you? You don’t have to offer me a place for the night. I was going to ask for a ride to the shelter. Anne can keep her mouth shut, and she lets me sleep in her car when things...shit, goes south.”

Gabe likes Anne, she’s a good woman. Solid. She recruited Travis as a team leader at the community center. But he’s not letting Brendon sleep in a car, unless it’s his own, and they’re together parked someplace hidden, safe.

“Yeah, no. That shit’s unsafe. Your parents aren’t home. They’re not going to notice.”

+

Brendon’s dozing in the passenger seat when Gabe’s car starts to act up. It stalls at a stop sign not even fives minutes from home. Luckily, it sputters back to life long enough to be taxied somewhere away from the red octagon of hell. Fuck if Gabe wants a ticket for parking too damn close to one of those fuckers.

He nudges Brendon awake.

“I think we have to walk. My girl died.”

Which is going to be fun as hell explaining to his parents in the morning why he needs a ride to school. Brendon mumbles something incomprehensible while rubbing at his eyes. He pops the passenger door and stumbles out with his backpack clutched in his left hand.

Gabe tries not to wonder if that’s all Brendon has left of his old life.

They walk in the dark. The world around them is deserted. Almost all the street lights are off. One or two flicker, but other than that, the moon lights their way. Something feels off. Gabe can’t pinpoint it.

Brendon crowds close to him and grabs his left hand.

“You feel like everyone else has suddenly died and we’re the only ones alive in a world of scary monsters who want to bathe in our blood?”

Gabe nods; he doesn’t know how to explain it.

They stop short of his house, standing in the middle of the road. Brendon stumbles, and the street light to their left does its best to kick on. Shadows scramble up the sides of the house.

There’s shouting from inside. Gabe goes to bolt for the front door. He can hear his mom yelling for him. Brendon wraps fingers in his belt loops, tugging him back.

“Brendon, what-”

Brendon stands still and tilts his head upward, toward Gabe’s bedroom window. Eerily bright flecks of orange and red lick against the glass before the window shatters. The sound is brittle and loud in the quiet.

No one else seems to hear it. No lights flip on in any neighboring window. As the flames eat more and more of his house, two shadows start to slink towards them.

Gabe’s brain is locked. He doesn’t know what to do. One of the shadows gets adventurous and stretches out to snap at Gabe’s legs. The street light shatters its bulb. Brendon tightens his grip on Gabe’s jeans and hauls him backwards.

They both stumble.

Most of the inky black shapes slip away and slide through the grass like its their home. Gabe can vaguely make out a shimmer in the air right above the tips of the grass. He wants to run for his house, save his parents, but the flames laugh at him, hotly.

The two remaining shadows circle them. Gabe’s phone slips from his pocket and somehow unlocks without breaking into three pieces. The LED glow presses the blackness away. Brendon scrambles for the plastic casing, shoving Gabe’s phone into his hand when he rises.

“Does it have a flashlight app?”

Gabe’s confused as fuck, emotionally drained, and. Fuck. Apparently, shadows have teeth.

Motherfucker. That hurts. The shadow slithering up his left leg bites him a second time.

Brendon releases his hold on Gabe and stumbles back. In the moonlight, Gabe can make out the other shadow clawing at Brendon’s right arm. High up, when it can’t get purchase around Brendon’s wrist.

Gabe fumbles with his phone. The flashlight app flares to life and the shadow around his leg shrieks. The sound is high-pitched. Gabe wonders if his ears are bleeding

Brendon bites off a scream as the shadow sinks claws into his right shoulder. He struggles and tries to shove the shadow into his backpack. It doesn’t work. Gabe stumbles closer and hopes to God he doesn’t blind Brendon with his fucking phone.

A second shriek pierces the silence.

“We need to go. Find someplace with light. Lots of light.”

Brendon gasps out his words. Blood trickles down his arm.

Gabe shuts out the wailing voice in his head that screams he’s alone again. If they survive through morning, he’ll deal then. Until that happens, they’re not safe.

Those shadow things are violent, and light keeps them away.

“Fuck that shit. I’m taking you to a hospital.”

Gabe wraps his right arm around Brendon’s waist, careful of Brendon’s right side.

+

The hospital is white, bright, and boring. Gabe sits in a hard plastic chair and pokes at the hemp bracelets around his wrists. Two are missing.

He gave them to Brendon. He doesn’t think his mother will mind. His birth mother. Not his mom. His _dead_ mom.

God.

What the fuck just happened?

Everything is _so_ fucked up. Nothing makes sense.

Dried blood speckles his jeans. None of the people in the waiting room give him a second glance. He’s sporting stitches and gauze underneath the holes and blood.

His phone is sitting on his thigh. It’s off. The battery is almost dead. He thinks about calling Nate or Victoria. But what would he say that wouldn’t sound crazy as fuck? Well, crazier than usual.

Who’s going to believe attacking shadows? His house going up in magical looking flames and other fantastical shit? The hospital staff sure as fuck wouldn’t have. As it is, they barely accepted Gabe’s bad lie of a dog attack to explain his and Brendon’s injuries.

The tv in the corner goes to a breaking news cast. His house pops up on the screen. Gabe cuts on his phone and stands. He can’t watch this shit, even on mute.

He doesn’t care if, apparently, there was a gas leak, and no one was injured. Yay, closed-captioning translating silence for him.

Wait.

Rewind.

Gabe stares at the screen. That’s not right. He knows it’s not. His parents are dead. Crispy fried.

He winces. Too fucking soon. It’s not even dawn yet.

His phone rings. A man with a little girl asleep against his side glares at Gabe.

“Hello.”

Gabe answers without thinking and steps out into the hall. He thinks about going outside, but what if the shadows are lurking out there?

“Where the fuck are you?”

Pete’s voice sounds worked-up. Frantic.

“We’re at Saint Eva’s on West Street. I don’t think I can work tomorrow night.” 

Gabe leans against the wall and watches the emptiness, his own shadow.

“Why the fucking hell are you there?” Pete doesn’t sound happy.

Not at all.

“Some fucking shadow things attacked us. Brendon got clawed. Pete, what the fuck? I think I’m going insane. My parents are dead-”

“Listen, Gabe. Fucking listen, okay? The hospital isn’t safe. Too many things live there. You need to get out. Give me fifteen minutes-”

Brendon grabs Gabe’s phone and ends the call.

“We need to go.” He voice cracks.

He tugs on Gabe’s arm.

“Something tried to strangle me. I think it wanted to know where you were. It wasn’t speaking English. What is going on?”

Gabe shrugs. “I don’t fucking know. You hung up on Pete. He said we’re not safe here.”

Brendon rolls his eyes. He looks pale. Gabe shouldn’t be involving him in all of this. Whatever _this_ entails. 

“Maybe we should take you to Anne first.”

Gabe doesn’t want to be alone with shit going down, but Brendon’s not safe with him. That point is glaringly obvious. Brendon takes two steps backwards.

“I’m pretty sure I only knocked out the Creature Who Knows No English; it knows what I look like. And, just to make this clear, like fuck am I letting you go off on your own to get killed or vanish off the face of the earth.”

Brendon bounces on the balls of his feet, wrapping his good arm around Gabe’s neck. 

Gabe tries not to smile. “It’s fucking weird as shit when you curse.”

Brendon giggles against his cheek right before pressing his lips to the moist skin. “I’m not very good at it. Maybe you can teach me?” He moves his arm and grabs Gabe’s hand.

No one comes after them as they sneak out of the hospital. Their footfalls echo in the mostly empty parking deck as they make their way from Saint Eva’s.

“How the fuck did they know?”

Gabe’s been trying to puzzle it out. Brendon wasn’t part of the news broadcast. No one should know he’s involved. Only the nurse who checked them into the ER knows they came in together.

“I filled out bogus information on the insurance form. What about you?”

It couldn’t be that easy to track someone. Not at, what, four a.m.

“I gave them my insurance card when they asked. Why would I need to give them fake identification?”

Brendon shrugs. “I don’t know. But maybe we should assume the worst. Not use plastic or cell phones. We’ll find a twenty-four hour pharmacy and call Pete from there.”

Gabe stops in his tracks. “How the fuck do you know this shit?”

Because really, who thinks of fucking shit like that? Spies or ninjas, maybe. Not sheltered teenagers who like band class too much to be healthy.

“I don’t. I’m guessing. I don’t know, but if you want to press our luck, we can-”

Nails scrape across the concrete. Brendon jumps at Gabe’s side, letting his words die as the noise gets louder.

Two nurses appear from behind a nearby, parked SUV. Gabe remembers seeing them when they first arrived at the ER.

“Oh, poor duckies. You look terrible. We could help, yes?”

Brendon wraps his fingers in Gabe’s shirt but doesn’t say anything. Gabe feels sick. There’s something weird about the women. A twist of not quite right hovering above their heads.

“We’re fine. Just going to catch a cab.”

One of the nurses scoffs. Her mouth elongates and row after row of sharp, serrated teeth gleam in the light. Her companion unfolds her arms from her chest, and they drop to the concrete. They should both look ridiculous, but they don’t.

Gabe’s fucking terrified.

“We promise we won’t pluck too many of your feathers, Snake King. Sadly, we can not be as kind to your companion, seeing as he is not initiated.”

Brendon stiffens before stepping forward. “You can try.”

Gabe doesn’t fucking know what Brendon’s doing. He doesn’t fucking approve. Not at all.

The nurses laugh. They sound like birds flocking together to peck at their fallen brethren.

“Oh, child. Do you think those party favors protect you? The Margulf might have burned at the touch. However, we’re stronger than that. My sister will enjoy gorging on your decaying flesh.”

Gabe fists a hand in Brendon’s shirt and hisses. “What the fuck are you doing?”

Brendon shakes his head and tightens his jaw. The bruise there is purpling. Fuck, this can’t be the same night. Gabe’s asleep. He’s dreaming.

Long-armed nurse screeches and runs at them. Brendon steps to the right and ducks, tugging Gabe with him as he moves.

“We need to run. Now.”

There’s no count to three. No ready, set, go. One second Brendon’s at his side, and the next, they’re both bolting for the exit, out into the road. Gabe bites his lip when he feels some of his stitches pop.

Motherfucking fuck. That hurts like a bitch.

They almost get hit by a truck because Gabe stumbles. The Silverado actually runs over mouth nurse when she tries to tackle them to the asphalt. Long-armed nurse pauses long enough to mourn her dead sister.

Gabe drags Brendon with him as he stands. They hobble down the sidewalk, trying to hide from shit that might attack them. Considering there’s no way to know what’s happening, they’re both screwed.

He doesn’t have his wallet or his phone. They were lost somewhere between the parking deck and the street. It means they don’t have any money nor any light and Gabe has no way to call anyone. Food or a bed would be nice right about now. It doesn’t look like either is going to happen.

The sun starts to pinken the horizon when they pause for a break. There’s a Walgreens not far in front of them. Pete’s got to be fucking pissed at Gabe for not calling him back or waiting for him.

+

Brendon’s leaning against the side of a building, hiding from the morning foot traffic when Gabe finds him. They’ve had to wander from store to store. Pete hasn’t been answering his phone. Technically, he didn’t answer this time.

Travis did.

Gabe wants to punch the both of them for being involved in whatever shit’s happening right now. Maybe he will when they get to the address Travis gave him. Until then, the party doesn’t stop for anyone.

What Gabe would give for a beer and a good time. Or a blunt and a lighter. This sober thing is too much. He has far too many questions swirling in his head for it to be healthy.

Brendon cocks his head and stares up at Gabe. “Time to _‘ramble on’_?”

His voice slurs, and Gabe can sympathize. He’s tired as fuck.

“Travis gave me an address. We’re going to have to rest first, though. It’s a few hours away by car.”

Brendon sighs. “Where?”

Gabe doesn’t have a damn clue. They end up hopping a ride from a fruit truck to a campground just outside the city limits. Brendon steals an armful of blankets from a site that has a laundry line strung up. Gabe helps him tug on the dry sheets to release them from the wooden laundry pins.

Trees crowd around them. It's as good a place as any for them to sleep. Brendon scoots close and rests his head against Gabe’s chest when they sit against the side of an old oak. Sleep creeps up on them quicker than Gabe expects.

He wakes to the sound of Brendon singing to himself. Brendon leans over and kisses him when he notices Gabe staring. He pulls away before Gabe can deepen the kiss.

“Time to go.”

Gabe nods.

They leave the blankets and sheets at the base of the tree.

As they walk, he wants to ask Brendon what the nurses meant by party favors. Fuck, Gabe has too many damn questions, and not nearly enough good answers. It’s not like Brendon’s really going to know, either. They’re both working off of instinct and a hefty dose of adrenaline.

So instead, he talks about spirit animals. Brendon says he’s a squirrel. Or a Monkey. Gabe laughs easily. He’s a moron for taking forever to see how good this could be. How good they could be, even with all the weird fucking shit going on.

+

The diner bell chimes when Gabe pushes open the door. He feels gross. His left leg hurts, but it doesn’t seem to be infected. Not yet, at least.

Brendon’s got his good arm around Gabe’s waist. They’re clinging to each other. Fitting together like a two-person puzzle.

Pete and Travis are in a far booth; there’s no one else in the diner. Pete stands, followed by Travis, when they notice Gabe and Brendon.

“Fucking hell, kids. You two look like shit.”

Travis drags Gabe into a hug while Pete glares at Gabe.

“I told you I was coming for you.”

Gabe rolls his shoulders. “Well, it’s not like I knew what was fucking happening, now did I? You both kept shit to yourselves.”

Travis sighs.

“We can’t tip the balance. You have to decide for yourself. Both of you, apparently.”

Brendon straightens at Gabe’s side. “Both of us? All the creepy crawlies seem to want Gabe. Which sucks, but why would I have to make a decision? The harpy women seemed to think I didn’t matter.”

A guy wearing black, with greasy dark hair steps from behind the counter. He’s carrying a plate of fries in one hand and holding two full glasses by the rims with his other.

“Because, whether you like it or not, Brendon, you’re part of this. Have been for years. With or without Gabe. I bet you’re both hungry. This is for you. There’s more in the back.”

Gabe eyes the plate of fries and the glasses critically. The water could be poisoned. Or the fries could turn into stinging centipedes. Those fuckers are disgusting and scary.

Pete rolls his eyes. “Gerard doesn’t believe in arsenic or cyanide.” He grabs a fry and pops it into his mouth.

Travis shakes his head at Pete. Gabe slides into the booth, Brendon following him down to the worn cushion.

Gerard sits on the opposite side and watches as they plow through the plate of fries and sip from the glasses of water. “The world you know. What you see. It’s only a fragment of reality as a whole. Alternate dimensions exist.”

Gabe coughs on his bite of fry. “I’m fucking insane and locked up in the looney bin.”

Gerard tightens his jaw and stays silent for three seconds until Brendon prompts him with “like Sliders?”

Gerard shakes his head.

“I wish, but no. There’s no alternates of all of us running around. There’s Eclipse: it’s where the shadows live. I’d advise against going there. Truith is where the fae roam. Anything mythological probably comes from Cersea-”

“What about the Snake King? Where is he from?” Gabe doesn’t care about faeries, satyres, or whatever shit Gerard’s rambling about.

Gerard stares at him. “Riuw is split into two factions. Those who worship the snake as the sun god, and those who bow to the hyena as the moon goddess. They’re always warring, but their dimension has a treaty with Base Earth or Earth Null, depending on who you’re asking. We’re the hub everyone else connects to. Most dimensions have treaties with us because of that. Citizens are allowed nationality, but they have to choose their alliance.”

“Snakes are mostly nocturnal.” Gabe turns to look out the diner window. Afternoon sunlight paints the road outside in hues of golds and oranges. “That still doesn’t explain why shit keeps coming after me. Why an asshole on the golf team called me Snake King. I’m not royalty, am I?”

Pete pulls over a chair and sits at the end of their table.

“Fuck no. You’re Gabe. Your parents were refugees from Ruiw. When your father was killed, your mother was inconsolable. She went on witch hunt after witch hunt. So you were put into the system, adopted by people who knew, and hidden until you could come of age.”

Brendon sets his water glass down. “But that doesn’t explain the whole choice thing.”

Travis puts his hand on Pete’s shoulder. “Some people are just special, not Short Bus special. They transcend the normal paperwork and allegiances to the dimension they create ties with-”

“Or they’re born here, and the oracles place their names on watch lists.”

Gabe pushes the empty plate away and lets his head thunk against the tabletop. Fuck, this is getting him nowhere. Except that apparently he’s surrounded by crazy people. Oh, and he’s also from an alternate reality. 

Brendon gingerly places his right hand on Gabe’s hurt knee. 

“Dimensional doors are a bitch to open or close. You need a key, but that key. It’s brittle on its own. To support it, two are chosen to share the burden. Sometimes the balance is off, two people sharing the weight while the third protects.”

Gabe almost sees stars when he lifts his head and turns to stare at the new person standing near them. The guy’s shorter than Brendon, tattoos skating up and down his arms. He’s gripping a broom tightly in his hands, and his gaze never strays far from Gabe or Brendon.

“The problem is, every dimension wants their own fucking key. Someone they can exploit. Riuw lost theirs when you were hid. Hence the stupid as hell honorific that doesn’t mean shit. Fucking centuries ago, Earth Null talked every engaged dimension into agreeing to neutrality for keys and their partners until those involved could make a valid decision on where they would go. Don’t ask me why a third of the dimensions choose to call themselves by names not Earth bladda bladda blah.”

Brendon squeezes Gabe’s knee gently. Whoever this guy is, he’s...something else. Gabe doesn’t understand what the fuck is going on. It reminds him of the first time he met Brendon. 

Gerard sighs. “Frank. You’re supposed to be in the back. This doesn’t involve you.”

Frank clenches his fingers around the handle of the broom. Gabe wants to ask him how he knows all this shit when he’s, maybe, Gabe’s age or Brendon’s.

“Gee, you were confusing them. I could feel it from the sink. Sometimes, to the point is better than a fucking history lesson.”

Pete and Travis share a look that Gabe has no way of understanding.

“So, Gabe’s the key? We’re not going to be reenacting _GhostBusters_ are we?”

Gerard shakes his head, and Gabe tries not to laugh. He lets his left hand clasp Brendon’s.

“Thankfully, no. But that’s the type of shit that can happen -has happened- if portal openers are coerced into learning without a true choice. Brendon, you... this isn’t easy to say. We’ve been watching you as a prospective knight.”

“Sure as fuck sounded easy to say from where I’m sitting.” Gabe narrows his eyes and thinks about resting his head on the tabletop again. There’s no way, no _fucking_ way, he’s following any of this.

Pete rubs his eyes and picks up for Gerard.

“Knights are optimistic, intelligent, and surprising in ways no one would ever imagine, but training is grueling. It breaks people. And until paired with a compatible key you’re vulnerable especially since you’re from here. Not many dimensions love Base Earth knights. Of course you could align with another dimension, but Base Earth would give you a good home.”

Gerard stares at Brendon. “If you pledge with Base Earth when your Choosing Date occurs, you would help police the rules between all realms; a key would be found for you. Few have the ability to access all dimensions, but general portal openers can sense many more than a specialized-allied, partnered trio can.”

Brendon’s fingernails dig into Gabe’s hand. The pain is bright. 

“What about Gabe? If he’s a key, why can’t I choose him?”

And fuck, Gabe wants to know the answer to that. Maybe he’s petty and selfish, but he doesn’t want Brendon to leave him.

“Gabe, you can, of course, choose Base Earth, but this will not stop the other realms from seeking you out as their own. They will no doubt have partners already selected for you. To pledge Base Earth, you would need two undrafted knights, or an undrafted knight and an undrafted lesser key, to bind their paths to yours.

This is why we wait until the age of nineteen to introduce most new members. This is not a step taken lightly.”

Gabe squeezes Brendon’s hand. “What if I choose Brendon? He’s undrafted, that’s what was just said, right?”

Gabe hates when he’s not sure if he’s remembering things correctly.

Travis looks unhappy and sad. “Unless you can find a third, Gabe, it’s not going to matter much.”

And fuck this shit.

“You were the one to tell me to stop being a pussy and ask him out. Now, suddenly, it’s lolololol, no. Sorry, but the universe is made up of thousands of alternate dimensions, and they all want a piece of you. The guy you’re in love with can’t choose to be with you. What the fuck, Travie?”

“I didn’t know Bren-”

Suddenly, the glass window behind Gerard shatters. Brendon slides off of the bench and tugs Gabe with him. Pete and Travis are checking their surroundings while Gerard slides a pistol from an ankle holster and starts shooting at whatever has decided to come charging full-tilt for Gabe.

Gabe laughs because guns, really? You’d think against weird harpy women or shadows, regular fucking bullets would do shit. Travis and Pete keep dodging glass as it continues to shatter. Gabe wonders if that makes them like him; Gerard like Brendon. It could be vice versa. Fuck if Gabe knows for certain.

He’s still not convinced this isn’t all one massively bad acid trip.

Brendon scrambles from Gabe’s reach to pick up a piece of shattered mirror from behind the diner counter. He crouches next to Gabe and uses the mirror to watch the front entrance without having to get in the crossfire.

“Love?”

Gabe shrugs. He wasn’t planning on admitting that, like, _ever_. He’s too young to know what real love is. Isn’t he?

Not to mention, love fails people everyday. How is he special enough to be different in those regards? Though, apparently, he is _special_. So what does he know.

Gerard, Travis, and Pete are working together, complex hand signs and broken words in a language Gabe doesn’t fucking understand. The tiles start to crack, vines and tree roots splintering the linoleum.

Frank crouches in front of them and holds out both of his hands. “I know a way out of here.”

In unison, Brendon grabs Franks right hand, Gabe his left.

Frank grins at them. “I have a plan, come on.”

+

“I am never listening to you ever again. _I know a way out_ doesn’t translates to _I’mma get us all lost in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere_.”

The car Frank jacked is busted, stranded on the side of the highway. Gabe has no damn clue what’s wrong with it. He’s never been big on the care and handling of vehicles.

Which means, they’re walking again. Gabe hates walking. But at least his knee has stopped bitching at him. Frank did something with a handful of herbs he carries with him at All Times that is helping Gabe’s wounds heal.

Brendon’s already whispered _‘can we keep him?_ to Gabe twice in the last hour.

Fuck.

They don’t need a third member of their party, expect that they do. Gabe’s pointedly _NOT_ thinking about that. He’s wondering what Nate, Alex, and Victoria are doing. Maybe, they’re not freaking out over Gabe going missing.

Much.

Frank won’t let Gabe borrow his cell to call them. Brendon’s conspiring with Frank to keep Gabe preoccupied so he doesn’t steal Frank’s phone and dial familiar numbers.

“Where are we going?” Brendon sing-songs his inquiry.

Frank turns to face them, walking backwards, and smiles happily.

“To catch snipe.”

Brendon giggles and whispers to Gabe “snipe hunting isn’t real.”

“I could have said _we’re off to see the wizard_ , but that jokes been dead for decades.”

Which is true. It’s something Brendon would have mentioned. But then Gabe’s boyfriend is a major dork.

His, maybe, boyfriend is a dork. Gabe’s still not sure what they are to each other. It would be easy to ask, but yeah, not going to happen yet.

+

“Fuck, stop rushing me. If I electrocute myself we’re all doomed.”

Gabe turns away from Frank trying to hotwire a truck that isn’t cooperating with being stolen to watch three little kids stare at them creepily from the edge of the deserted parking lot. He’s pretty fucking sure the kids aren’t normal. It’s something like three a.m. No parent _ever_ allows their children out at this hour.

“Well, if the freaky-ass Children of the Corn eat us alive, the truck can officiate at our funerals.”

Frank scoffs while striking stripped wires together. “This isn’t a Stephen King novella; there’s no corn fields around for miles.”

Brendon pokes Gabe in the side when one of the children begins to bloat. “They’re toads.”

  


Gabe shakes his head and wishes he didn’t have to watch eyes bulge and start to bleed. He’s going to be sick, even if he hasn’t eaten in hours.

“Fucking gross, man. I don’t care what they are, I just hope they don’t have razor-sharp....wait nope, we’re not that lucky. Frank, hurry the fuck up. The kiddies have shark smiles.” 

The truck’s engine rumbles to life not a second too soon. Gabe drags Brendon into the cabin, shoving him against Frank, as three tiny, little kid bodies thump solidly against the side of the door.

“Motherfucker, lock the passenger door and keep the windows up.”

Frank salutes Gabe, and Gabe flips him off before punching the gas.

Brendon’s the only one to turn to watch the toads hop after them.

+

The sun is blinding. Gabe groans and hides his head behind the closest shoulder. Frank yawns and sits up. Gabe’s head thunks against the metal truck bed. Well, that answers who he was using as a human shield.

“Hump day. I hate Wednesdays. Garfield loathes Mondays. Wednesdays are more my style.”

Gabe closes his eyes and tries to block out what Frank’s mumbling. Then he registers exactly what Frank said. It’s Wednesday.

Only fucking Wednesday?

Damn, fucking shitty fuck hell. 

“I’m coping too damn well with this shit. I think I should walk up to a tree and punch it.”

Brendon presses his forehead against Gabe’s neck. “If you break your fingers, I’m searching for duct tape. For your mouth, not as a splint.”

Frank laughs groggily. Gabe’s torn between thinking chipmunk or lemur as Frank’s spirit animal. He’s going to be leagues off because Frank’s new, but he’s short, temperamental, and hilarious.

Which means he fits right in.

+

Brendon pushes his fingers through Gabe’s hair when Gabe leans against him. They’re all back to sitting in the bed of the truck. There’s no one around for miles. Not since they passed through a small town and Frank, with Brendon’s help, conned a grocery store clerk into giving them half-priced edibles.

They owe Frank big time.

The hemp bracelets around Brendon’s wrists droop but don’t fall off. It’s a small thing to stare at. Gabe can’t help it. The bracelets look perfect on Brendon.

A little, nagging thought whispers that Brendon’s not the only one who’d wear the hemp well. Gabe shoves the voice down. Things are still new with Brendon. They’re officially boyfriends because Brendon asked and Gabe caved.

He doesn’t need to go and want someone else on top of that.

“Oh God, save me now. The turtle doves are coo, coo, cooing at each other.” 

Brendon leans around Gabe and tangles his fingers in Frank’s hair. “Jealous, just like a tiny kitten angry at his littermates for getting more attention.”

Frank pulls back and snaps at Brendon’s fingers. “Tiny kitten, my ass.”

Brendon falls into Gabe’s lap laughing while Frank leans heavily against his shoulder.

It feels comfortable.

It feels _right_.

+

The hot water is glorious. Gabe tries not to get sidetracked because he’s not the only one who needs to bathe. However, he did earn first shower for learning how to steal a wallet the quickest. Well, between him and Brendon.

Frank’s some delinquent version of a master-level savant.

Though, Gabe’s certain he won’t be able to pull off the theft a second time. Brendon was the one who had to pretend to be **Richard Eads’** son while his parents were in the car fighting. The fact that the clerk fell for Brendon’s innocent boy act is equal levels awesome and depressing.

Gabe doesn’t like musing on what this is doing to them. He’s lost his family, the one he grew up with. It’s possible his mother doesn’t actually care, and the bracelets were from someone else. And he’s tugged Brendon into this whole clusterfuck.

He can’t call his friends to reassure them that he’s fine. Gabe’s chest hurts, and his head won’t shut up. He has no damn clue what he’s doing.

Frank still won’t tell them his plan. Gabe’s almost worried. For some stupid reason, he trusts the guy. Brendon does, as well. That could come back to bite them on the ass.

His knee aches, but it’s not puffy and most of the leftover stitches have fallen out. Gabe doesn’t relish changing back into his ratty-ass clothes. At least, now he can pretend like a pro that the blood is actually paint.

They need to make it a priority to go thrift store shopping. Brendon’s bloody shirt isn’t as easily explained away. So far it’s been to their advantage. But that could change.

Gabe cuts off the water, towels off, and slips into his stiff jeans. God, he misses his clothes at home. Damn it, he can’t keep thinking about this shit.

When he walks into the main part of their room, Frank’s standing behind Brendon, on his tiptoes, with his chin resting on Brendon’s shoulder as he tries to teach Brendon how to throw a punch. Gabe should be jealous. His chest is tight, but not because of any green-eyed monsters.

Frank and Brendon look hot together. _Goddamn it, Gabe. Pull yourself together, asshole. It’s never going to happen_.

“Shower’s free.”

Brendon disentangles himself from Frank, slowly. He doesn’t act guilty or oblivious. He just acts like Brendon. The guy Gabe’s liked since before he _knew_ what liking someone meant.

Frank smiles at Brendon. He smirks happily at Gabe when he notices he’s being watched. Gabe is _so_ fucking screwed.

+

“We need to go. Now, assholes.”

Frank shoves at Gabe’s shoulder. Brendon cuddles against Gabe’s chest. They’re comfortable.

“If we’re caught this is jailtime. Move your asses.”

Brendon grumbles but slips from Gabe’s arms to go piss.

“You are a killer of mirth, Frank.”

+

The thrift store clerk doesn’t run chasing after them when they steal their new-ish sets of clothes. When they slow to a crawl, Gabe laughs while Brendon giggles almost hysterically against his side.

“That should not have worked. How the fuck did you learn all this shit, Frank?” 

Frank rolls his shoulders before looking up at the clouds lazily drifting by.

“Not everyone is lucky enough to have shit. I quit school at sixteen. Lived on the streets for a year. Gerard’s brother, Mikey, found me. Offered me a job at the diner.”

Brendon stops giggling. He reaches out with his healing right arm and tugs Frank against them.

“Group hug!”

+

They ditch the truck, and Frank gives them their first true lesson on hot-wiring a vehicle. Always go for older models. Try not to fry yourself dead. Etc. Etc.

The spend the night in the back of the empty van, curled up against each other. It’s uncomfortable but doable. A few hours before dawn, they drive to a gas station for snacks and fuel.

The van’s glove compartment had a hundred dollar bill folded behind the insurance card. It’s fucking hidden treasure to them.

Gabe’s outside first. The parking lot is mostly deserted. There are only two other cars in the lot.

He’s scanning for the occupant(s) of the other vehicles when a redhead wearing a denim jacket rubs against him.

“Show me your fangs, and I show you mine.”

Gabe pushes the woman away. She glares at him but doesn’t move to attack.

“We love the early bloomers. They taste sweeter.”

“Sorry, chickette, but my dance card’s already full.”

The redhead hisses at him. Fucking, hisses. Her canines look fucking sharp.

And, okay, apparently vampires exist. Fucking great. The goth kids are going to _love_ that shit. 

Frank and Brendon walk up beside him. The redhead narrows her eyes at them.

“If you change your mind, sweetcakes, we’re not hard to find.”

Gabe bursts out laughing when they’re safe in the van. It’s either laugh or cry. Laughing is the better option here.

“Fuck, vampires. Really, Frankie?”

Frank nods at him. “They like willing partners. It’s why she didn’t press you, or try to maul you to death.”

Brendon fiddles with the radio. When nothing but static pumps through the van, he cuts the volume down.

“How do you know all this?”

Frank doesn’t even shrug while he’s driving. He’s stiff and staring straight ahead.

“My parents wanted a key for a son. Even a general one would do. I was homeschooled until I turned twelve. Then it was decided I wasn’t _socializing_ properly for a teenager. So off to public school I went. Nothing good came after that. Then the diner happened, and it was easier to tell me shit than try to hide it. So I learned even more.”

Brendon rests his left hand on Frank’s shoulder. Gabe adds his to the equation even if that makes their arms an odd tangle that could result in them dying in a fiery car crash. 

“You’re not a key.” Brendon’s voice is soft. It’s not a question.

Frank’s answer is just as quiet. “No shit. What gave me away?”

Gabe squeezes his hand over Brendon’s. “Well then, their loss is our gain.”

The van swerves. Frank almost locks the breaks in the process. Somehow, he taxis them to the shoulder, killing the engine.

“You can’t just say shit like that. Especially if you don’t mean it.”

Brendon squares his shoulders. “Who says we don’t?”

Gabe agrees with Brendon here, but they haven’t talked about this.

Frank turns in the driver’s seat to stare at Gabe. “You agree with Brendon?”

Gabe nods. “One hundred and fifty percent, fucker.”

Frank slumps. “You know this complicates shit, right?”

Brendon climbs across the middle console to fall into Frank’s lap. “How would it complicate things? There’s three of us. We like you. You like us. Suddenly, not complicated.” 

Gabe laughs without meaning to. He fucking loves Brendon-logic. Even if he does wish Brendon would have done the same last year when Gabe ran away from a fucking good thing, like an idiot.

+

“So what, you spend eighteen, fuck, nineteen years in the dark and then, motherfucking freight train of new information slams into you? That’s a shitty way to run an organization.” Gabe twists one of his hemp bracelets while he talks.

Frank nods. “Most people, yeah. They never see it coming. Some just don’t believe, or they go crazy. For the rest, it just clicks. You’re not _supposed_ to tell those who pop up on the Oracle lists. It goes against the Clou Convention. That shit was signed and ratified in the fifteenth century, and the assholes still honor it, mostly. A few rules have gone lax as shit, but, yeah, a lot of the other stipulations still apply across the dimensional spectrum.”

Gabe turns to stare at a crack in the wall to his right. They’re hiding for a few hours before skipping town again. Frank keeps them moving more often than not. They’ve ditched the van and now have a beat-up little Honda something-or-another that Gabe has to fold himself into.

He feels like the last clown being forced into a tiny VW Beetle after all his clown buddies have already found seats. It’s ridiculous.

Brendon sits down next to Frank and pokes him in the shoulder. “But, if we’re all kept in the dark, how are we supposed to make informed decisions?”

“Technically, you’re supposed to be given a year after Discovery to pledge. In that year, you’re taught your skill-sets. Knights go with neutral knights, and keys with general portal openers. You’re still kept together at the training facility, but you don’t learn side by side.”

Gabe snorts and rubs his face with his hands. This shit is too fucking complicated.

“Technically?”

There’s the sound of a rock colliding with rotting wood when Frank reaches for a decently-sized stone and chunks it at the nearest wall.

“The people who police the fucking rules are easily bought in certain places. Or they’re like my parents, who knew an Oracle they could weasel information from. It’s like they forgot how unreliable the lists are.”

Brendon pitches over into Frank’s lap, fingers finding ticklish spots almost instantly. Gabe slides closer and keeps Frank from retaliating viciously. Brendon’s been trying his damnedest to keep Frank from dwelling on his past.

Gabe’s trying to help, but he isn’t as successful.

+

The grocery store is mostly-empty Saturday morning. Gabe shoves his hands into his pockets. He’s resolutely _not_ thinking about Nate and his stupid-as-fuck work apron or Victoria and her neon-painted nails. Fuck, he’s missing Alex’s shitty taste in Youtube videos also. Gabe never _ever_ misses Alex’s Youtube picks.

Fuck, a week ago, he was partying. Not running away from freaky shit that wants to drag him home with them. Seriously, this is _NOT_ how he imagined his weekend when he thought about it on the way to school Monday morning.

Brendon and Frank are outside, waiting. It’s Gabe’s turn to lift shit again. He’s not exactly thrilled with thievery, but you do what you have to. Survival matters more than lower-tier morals. When they get to where Frank’s taking them, they can reevaluate their crazy-as-fuck situation.

The cashiers are bored, flipping through the glossy pages of Cosmo or Glamour. No one notices him pocketing small snack items. Not even the floor manager.

“See, I get why keys are important, but knights just sound boring and easily pushed aside.”

Brendon and Frank are leaning against the brick of a nearby alleyway when Gabe finds them.

“Knights are important. If you know the right people, you get cool gadgets and shit. Plus, you’re never alone once you pledge.”

Gabe tosses a pack of crackers at Brendon’s head before handing Frank a second pack. “Does that mean you’ll be pledging with us. I’d say you’re a fucking kick-ass knight.”

Frank rips into the plastic without saying anything. Brendon frowns at Gabe while he wrestles with his own pack. Eventually, Frank takes pity on him and opens the plastic for him.

“I would, no matter how fleeting _this_ will all turn out to be, but I’m not like either of you. Shouldn’t have even been on that damn list. Not that I don’t like this, it’s good, but once I drop you two off, I’m gone again.”

Brendon makes a sad sound in the back of his throat, and Gabe’s sure it’s not because he just dropped his pack of crackers. Gabe closes his eyes and counts to ten. He doesn’t fucking understand how mammals are so damn dense as fuck. Snakes, apparently, have better go-getter personalities. 

“So what, let’s make our own damn rules. Fuck the system. Do what feels right.”

Fuck, Gabe’s spent too damn long either running from his decisions or hiding from them. Somehow, he’s still come out on top with Brendon. Maybe it can work with Frank.

“Where are we going, anyway? A training facility?”

Frank shakes his head at Brendon’s inquiry while Brendon bends to pick up the salvageable crackers still trapped in the plastic.

“They won’t let us in. Even with Gabe being _’Destined’_ or whatever shit all the monsters are snapping about. We’re going to see a friend.”

Gabe sighs and pushes off of the brick.

“Then we might as well be slithering onward.”

+

The pale morning light is watery, and Gabe’s reminded of how egg yolks look when poked with a fork, the yellow allowed to mix with the white. They’ve been lucky with the heat slipping from stifling to straddling the line between unbearable and uncomfortable. That, and they’ve been jacking cars when they can, leaving the vehicles in cameraless lots or on the side of the road for future discovery.

Brendon and Frank are walking together. Gabe dropped a few steps behind them a couple minutes ago. He needs time to think. Not just randomly half-ass muse about shit.

A plan to keep Frank around would be good.

Fuck, actually believing he’s special would also be good. Gabe doesn’t think he’s all that important. It’s not as if he’s shown any stellar as fuck invisible powers. 

Frank’s been telling them stories about the many worlds that connect to Earth Null and while Gabe’s starting to truly believe that, okay, fucking alternate dimensionals _do_ exist. Holy fuck, do they. He’s not jumping on the _Gabe Is ‘The Chosen One’_ bandwagon.

He’d rather make bad Harry Potter or Neo jokes instead. Because until proven otherwise, he’s just eighteen and suddenly orphaned. Again. Not some magical unicorn of specialness.

Though a uniconda would be a sight to see if it didn’t die from impaling the wrong prey first. Gabe shoves his hands deeper into the pockets of his stolen jeans and scoffs at himself.

Well, at least, his crack-ass thoughts haven’t wandered away.

“So, how does it work, this mystical shit about opening doors into other dimensions?”

Frank shrugs. “You’re supposed to see that shit. Feel the tug. Snap, click, and bam open or shut doorway. Even clueless, most keys experiment before they’re sat down and told. I never did, so I don’t fucking know. Maybe you can see sparkles for all I know.”

Frank’s bitter. Gabe can understand that but it doesn’t help him _at all_.

“Great, I’m forever doomed to see Stephenie Meyer’s vampire auras. Fucking goody.”

Brendon giggles, turns to smile at Gabe and trips over his own feet. Frank keeps him from bashing his face against the sidewalk.

Seriously, how the fuck are they special?

It’s like picking the weird lime and neon colors and saying they’re now primary. No art teacher worth their salt would do that shit.

“How much longer till we meet the ‘Wizard of Oz’. You can answer that, _right_?”

Frank stops walking. Brendon snickers but stops when he notices Frank’s hunched shoulders. The three of them have gotten close. Frank’s still fucking pushing to abandon them when they’re safe. None of them like the reminder. It’s easy to forget that until it comes up in conversation.

  


“We’d be there by now, but Mikey moved a few months back. Got promoted up the ranks. He has his own Delphi now.”

Frank doesn’t give out information like Gabe does. It’s his way of conceding _something_. Giving them more to go by. Finally.

“Wait....Delphi, as in ancient Greece? He’s an oracle.” Brendon bounces and spins once.

He doesn’t fall. Honestly, Gabe has no damn clue how he does it.

“It’s a safe house? You said oracle destinations are sanctuaries.”

Frank nods.

“Mikey’s the dude who pulled you off the streets, right? That means we can talk him into locking your ass up with us.”

Frank glares at Gabe. He opens his mouth to argue, and Brendon tackles him to the sidewalk, proceeding to start an impromptu tickle war.

“Don’t fucking object. We don’t care what brand of _special_ you are or aren’t.”

Gabe straightens his posture. Doesn’t crouch to help Brendon stage a quick and effortless victory. Frank struggles before rolling Brendon, effectively pinning Brendon to the sidewalk.

Luckily, there’s no one around at this hour to yell at them for being stupid teenagers.

Brendon’s laughter is high and thin. He’s reaching the point where he starts to shove and play dirty because he’s ticklish and devious. He pushes Frank away, sits up, and pants happily while he catches his breath.

“If...if you don’t...want us. That’s.....fine, but....don’t think we care...about labels.”

Frank huffs, scoots to lean against Brendon’s side. “I keep telling you, neither of you fucking _know_ what you’re asking. You don’t get a say in this.”

Gabe sighs. “Why the fuck not? You’ve let us get this far. Don’t shitty fucking lie to yourself and think none of this matters. If you say you’re the damn voice of reason, I’m going to hit you. I don’t care if you’re the height of a twelve-year-old.”

Frank clenches his jaw.

Brendon drops his head to Frank’s shoulder, wraps an arm around his waist. “We’re not pushing, okay? But, this doesn’t seem _that_ wrong to me, to us.”

“I...let me think about this.” Frank ruffles Brendon’s hair

+

“Lets say I said _yes_ to you crazy assholes and your stupid fucking idea.” Frank’s voice is deep. Threaded with exhaustion.

Gabe yawns and stretches to poke Brendon in the ribs. He wakes with a yelp and a grumble. Frank’s been playing creepy-sleep-starer while he’s been deciding. Gabe’s not going to be the only one hearing his final decision.

“Okay. I’m not sure what you want to hear right here.” Gabe proves once again that he’s mildly an asshole.

Frank shakes his head and sighs before continuing.

“I’m not good at this. If you fucking leave my ass for some shiny new model who’s more helpful, I’m tracking you fuckers down. I won’t be nice. I know a hell of a lot of ways to hurt people.”

Frank’s staring past Gabe’s shoulder until he’s not. Direct eye contact with Frank is intense.

“You’re a fucking tease, Frankie.” Gabe smirks. He’s not joking.

Brendon shuffles and pulls something out of his pocket. At the snick of a blade being popped, Gabe recognizes it as the pocket Swiss Army knife Brendon snatched from the last thrift store they stole from.

The light in the room they’re crashing in is dim. Gabe barely makes out Brendon shallowly cutting his palm. His wince has Gabe shaking his head in the gloom. He has an idea of where Brendon’s going with this. 

“We’ll promise if that helps. Blood is binding in old rituals. I don’t know how else to prove to you that I’m not playing with you, Frank.”

Gabe takes the knife from Brendon’s hand and mirrors his actions, careful to not sever tendons or muscle. The hand is fucking fragile in that department.

The slice hurts, but it’s not terrible. Fucking less painful than Gabe’s leg felt after the fucking asshole shadows decided he was tasty.

Frank laughs. It’s this high sound. “You can’t be serious. You’re fucking crazy.”

Gabe passes the knife to Frank. “I can be predictable and say _like a heart attack_ if you want me to. Just fucking get with the program. _All for one and one for all_ and the rest of that shit. We’d like if you joined the cray cray train with us.”

“I want to go on the record saying this is not what I signed up for if shit warps.” Frank hisses as he cuts his own hand.

“Duly noted. Now how the fuck do we do this, B. There’s three of us. We’re not a fucking square. can’t just palm up evenly.”

Brendon sighs. “I didn’t think that far.”

Frank snorts. “Fucking hell, lets just form a triangle and press as close as we can for skin contact.”

Gabe’s about to make a smartass comment about Frank being just as amateur as they are when his palm touches Brendon’s and Frank’s at the edges. He disregards the minor tingle and presses his hand against the resistance.

Mothering fucking fuck. It’s like jabbing a fork into a light socket. The electricity almost knocks him on his ass. Gabe grits his teeth and doesn’t drop his hand. A little shock never hurt anyone.

Not that Gabe ever did something as stupid as stick metal into an electrical outlet when he was little. Okay, maybe he did, once. He was curious and lucky as fuck it didn’t kill him. The resulting jolt gave him an epic hair style for a few days. While the static shock that lingered wasn’t as awesome. He got zapped any time he even so much as stared at his bedroom door handle.

Gabe’s just barely aware of a sizzling sound when Brendon yelps and yanks his hand back.

The break in contact makes him dizzy. Gabe has trouble breathing. Hears wheezing. And belatedly realizes he’s hearing himself.

Frank’s breathing is erratic. Gabe starts to panic when he doesn’t recognize Brendon’s steady breathing next to him.

Suddenly, there’s a gasp followed by a heaving breath.

“Mother fuck. What....what was that?” Brendon’s voice is wet and weak.

Frank shudders. “I don’t know. Never...fuck...never heard of that happening.”

Gabe reaches out and drags Brendon closer. Once Brendon’s leaning against one side, Gabe snags Frank’s shirt and tugs.

When Frank settles against his other side Gabe feels settled. A moment before the world was spinning. Now it’s solid once more.

“We’re special snowflakes. Told you.” Gabe grins around a yawn. “Let’s fucking sleep some more, yeah?”

They’re out like lights seconds after that.

+

The roadside restaurant is mostly deserted at midnight. Frank’s been here before. It’s supposedly safe. Gabe doesn’t feel as sure, but what does he know? He’s never been here, and he’s hungry as fuck.

This is their last stop before meeting the mysterious Mikey. Gerard’s brother.

“Are they together?” Brendon reaches around Frank to snag a fry from Gabe’s plate and pops it into his mouth.

“Who?”

“Travie, Pete, and Gerard?”

Frank shrugs. Gabe can feel the motion. He’d be worried if he couldn’t, considering Frank is settled between him and Brendon. It’s comfortable this way.

“I never asked. Wasn’t my business. I know Gerard was keeping tabs on you, Bren, while Travis and Pete were watching you, Gabe.” 

The waitress, nametag proclaiming _Hi, my name is Deb_ , walks by and asks them if they need anything. Gabe shakes his head and asks for their check. Deb smiles, shakes her head and says the meal is on the house.

“Friends of Frankie’s are friends of ours.”

Gabe smiles back but doesn’t put much feeling behind it. Something’s wrong.

“I’m going to piss. Be back soon.”

Brendon snickers. “Thanks for the announcement. I’ll call the papers.”

Gabe shakes his head happily. 

He gets two steps from the table when the air starts getting heavy. It’s hard as fuck to breathe. Like the molecules gained weight from one second to the next.

The cold tiles of the restaurant rush up to meet Gabe’s knees. He faintly hears Frank curse loudly while Brendon scrambles over the tabletop to reach Gabe. Plates crash to the tiles. Gabe barely catches the clatter.

Deb’s standing at the other side of the restaurant. There’s a spray bottle in her hand. Massive leathery wings stretch up to the ceiling behind her.

“Oh, you’re cute. The vineyard ivy failed to include that.”

Deb’s voice is thick. Like the air. Gabe starts to gag. He’s having trouble catching a breath.

A glass cracks against the side of her face. It shatters, shards raining down at her feet. It’s enough of a distraction for her to drop the spray bottle. The heaviness slacks.

Gabe gulps down air greedily. Fuck, that hurt. His skin feels thin, sweaty, and prickly.

Brendon yelps, and Gabe yanks himself off of the tiles quick enough to see Deb sink clawed fingernails into Brendon’s shoulder.

“Pretty, pretty guardsman. We could make you a deal.”

Frank slams a chair across Deb’s back, across her wings. “Sorry, he’s already taken.”

Gabe doesn’t miss the possessive lilt to Frank’s words. It mirrors Gabe’s thoughts.

Deb flexes her wings and drops Brendon to focus on Frank.

“Oh. Ohhhh. This is fantastic. A tracer, we haven’t seen one of you in millenia. Have you learned the spell work yet, little mage?” 

Frank stills. Gabe doesn’t know why. Maybe it has something to do with what she called him. Gabe doesn’t give a fuck about what a tracer is. Frank’s Frank. That’s all that matters.

Deb uses the lull to lunge at Frank. Her claws rip the collar of his shirt. Gabe’s stomach drops when blood starts to stain the front. The world around him slowly begins to narrow.

The tabletop starts to soften where his fingers are resting. Gabe’s been unconsciously using the table as a prop to stand with. He feels _so_ fucking unsteady. A stork without sea legs.

There’s this fine sheen to the table now. Gabe glances down. Sees squiggles slither across his vision. He doesn’t fucking know what he’s doing. It just feels right. Fucking weird as shit, but right.

“Hey, Deb, bitchy dearest. Let’s leave them out of this. Wanna talk about terms?”

Gabe has no intentions of actually making a deal with the fucking bat lady. She’s not Bruce Wayne, so Gabe’s not going to care about pissing her off.

Deb tosses Frank into Brendon. They both slide across the tiles before slamming against the side of a table. Gabe winces. Hopes they’re okay. He really fucking wants to check on them, but he’s gotten Deb’s attention.

No punking out now. 

“You will wear our crest. Bow to the crown-”

Gabe doesn’t get a chance to think of a better plan than faking Deb out before Frank and Brendon shove her against the table when Gabe side-steps her advance on him.

She falls through the wood. just fucking vanishes. Gabe’s knees buckle. His head is fucking _killing_ him. On instinct, he lifts a hand and slides it across the shimmer. The wood goes back to being wood. No softness, no give.

Gabe laughs. The sound hurts his ears.

Frank and Brendon drop at his side, bloodied bookends.

“Are you okay?”

Their voices tangle with each other. Brendon giggles. He sounds exhausted, hurt. Frank’s scoff is just as fragile.

Gabe reaches out. Tangles fingers in Brendon’s shirt. Curls a hand around Frank’s wrist. “Let’s not do that again.”

“Not likely to happen.”

The new voice is calm. Steady.

Gabe groans under his breath. “Can we take a raincheck on the tug-of-war over my awesomeness for the rest of the night?”

The guy steps over broken glass. He crouches in front of Gabe. Brendon tenses. Frank doesn’t.

“It’s technically morning. Come on. My car is better than tile.”

And, like that, the guy stands and walks to the entrance. He raises an eyebrow when Gabe doesn’t move.

“Who are you?” Brendon’s voice is slow and wobbly. It’s still strong.

The guy pulls out a set of car keys. There’s a unicorn keychain hanging from the ring.

  


“Frank left me a message. Was a bitch tracking you. I wasn’t home. Didn’t plan to be for another week.”

Gabe wants to facepalm, but that would mean letting go of Frank and Brendon. “That’s not your name.” 

“Would be badass and hard to say quickly. I’m Mikey.”

Frank shakes his head. “He’s just as bad as Gee. No rest for the wicked.”

Gabe groans. He doesn’t want to move just yet. When Frank goes to stand, Gabe tugs him close and kisses him, hard. Frank humors him for a second before biting Gabe’s lip and pulling back.

He’s smiling, though. Gabe counts that as a win.

Brendon mock pouts, and Frank rests his left hand on Gabe’s shoulder for balance when he pulls Brendon in for a quick kiss.

“Who’s the jealous kitten, now?”

Brendon growls playfully under his breath at Frank.

“I’m leaving you three if you don’t hurry.”

Mikey opens the door and steps outside.

Frank stands and sways. Gabe steadies him. Brendon stumbles to his feet and curses.

“Shit, that hurt. Please tell me you got a plate number on that bus.”

Gabe snorts. Brendon’s being a weirdo. It’s a good thing. Means he’s not badly hurt.

“Sorry, was busy being awesome and _destined_.”

Frank and Brendon drag Gabe to his feet. “How did you do that, anyway?”

Gabe rolls his shoulders. “Random act of luck?”

It wasn’t luck. Maybe Gabe’s special after all. He’s not ready to say that he definitely is just yet.

But, maybe.

He’s beginning to believe all the hype.

+

“You’re not transferring districts are you, fucker?” Victoria’s voice is pinched over the phone line.

Gabe stares out the window of Mikey’s living room. He’s recited the lie Mikey gave him. Twice already. The third time around it still sounds absurd.

Alex was the first person Gabe was able to get in touch with. Then Nate cursed at him for not calling and telling them shit. Now, it’s Victoria’s turn at disbelieving bestie.

No one really believes that Gabe’s parents were top-secret spies whose covers were blown, and they had to run. Gabe shuffled off on friends of the family for safety purposes. Mikey has the most ridiculous lies ever. At least, no one’s asking for the truth.

Gabe would bet a million bucks Victoria rolled her eyes at Gabe’s assholery once she stopped being pissed over being left in the dark, worried as fuck.

“No, snapdragon of my heart.” Gabe smiles around his words and outright laughs when Victoria calls him a _dickass fucking prick douchenozzle_.

“Your heart belongs to a spazz. Don’t front. I gotta go. You vanish again, I’m cutting your balls off.” 

Gabe doesn’t know how Mikey’s pulled off getting him -and Brendon- immunity until they graduate. But he has.

They are supposedly Mikey’s wards until May. After that, they get to decide where they want to go. Who they want to associate with. The dimension they want to work with.

Gabe’s going to be staying with Travis while Brendon crashes at Gerard’s seeing as his own parents are pretending he doesn’t exist. Mikey would let them stay at his place for the duration, except he lives states away. He thinks it’s best if they finish up the school year somewhere familiar.

As it is, he’ll have to visit every month to check up on them, anyway. Which is good because Frank has to stay with Mikey so he can learn how to be a good tracer. Learn magic from Greta, Mikey’s assistant, so he can be a legitimate part of Gabe and Brendon’s little triangle of weirdness.

He gets to have all the fun while Gabe and Brendon are going to get the speed round course in their prospective futures. Gabe’s actually looking forward to the challenge. It keeps him from thinking about his parents and his still absent mother.

Apparently, she wasn’t sending him the bracelets afterall. Score one for Gabe’s inner Negative Nancy for calling that one correctly. Greta was making them and shipping them to Gabe’s parents for his protection.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me, asshole?”

Frank’s voice is loud. He’s been pissed at Mikey since they arrived. Since they were healed enough to bitch about Mikey’s internet being glitchy and down for the night until it could be fixed.

“Would you have believed me?”

“NO.”

“Mystery solved then.” Mikey sounds bored. 

Maybe all oracles are this zen? Gabe doesn’t know. He likes Mikey, though. The guy is easy to hang out with. He doesn’t seem to mind that Gabe’s with Brendon and Frank. Unlike Gerard, who fucking flipped when Mikey told him over the phone yesterday.

Gabe wasn’t supposed to choose his grounder partners yet. Screw that shit. He’s in love with Brendon and already in the process of falling into the same pit of quicksand with Frank. Let Gerard rant until the sky turns into dust over their heads.

“Tracers are bad news, Mikey. What if I hurt them?”

Brendon pokes his head into the living room. Gabe places a finger to his lips and inclines his head in the direction of the kitchen. Brendon nods and silently creeps to Gabe’s side.

“You’re safe, Frankie. They’re the real deal. Did they fucking bind blood-to-blood-to-blood with you? You smell off.”

Gabe doesn’t get to hear the rest of the conversation because footsteps echo across the kitchen floor. Brendon tugs Gabe into the hallway and kisses him. It’s the perfect alibi.

“Cough, cough, cough.”

Brendon ducks his head and snickers against Gabe’s chest.

“You’re not fooling anyone. I know you two were eavesdropping.” Frank scowls.

Gabe smirks. “We’re all jesters here. Join the party. It’s for three, anyway.”

“I’ll go get Mikey then, if it’s _only_ for three.”

Brendon reaches out and fists the hem of Frank’s shirt in his hand.

“Ha, ha, ha. You’re funny. We mean you, Frankie.”

Frank sighs like he’s _so_ inconvenienced by the idea. Gabe’s not convinced for a second, especially when Frank doesn’t fight Brendon dragging him closer so they’re a three-person puzzle fitted together instead of just two pieces mourning the empty space that should be filled.

It’s a step in the right direction. A fucking leap forward for the three of them. For Frank and his slowly growing belief in their relationship. For Brendon, who has a family again. For Gabe and his need for a purpose.

A few weeks ago, Gabe was single and never thought he’d find his place in the world. Now, everything’s shifted and he’s being given the chance to figure out where he belongs. Who he wants to belong with -to.

Not to mention he has two hot as fuck boyfriends. Yes, boyfriends. Gabe’s tired of lying. Why should he?

There’s bound to be bad shit on the horizon. He misses his parents terribly. High school is a bitch. And in a few days, Frank’s going to be in a long-distance relationship with them.

The good still outweighs the not-so-epically-shiny.

It’s worth the effort. 

This is only the beginning.

  



End file.
